Salvation
by Xandra
Summary: (Yaoi, Songfic, Rate for death) REUPLOADED--What if Operation Meteor hadn’t been stopped? In a post-apocalyptic universe, a maddened and destroyed Trowa Barton travels back in time to see his lost angel one last time. (One shot)


//thoughts//  
  
EMPHASIS  
  
*MORE EMPHASIS*  
  
[\\flashback/memory\\]  
  
/'Remembered statements'/  
  
{"Outer-worldly voices"}  
  
** time elapsed **  
  
Xandra: This is a semi AU/CU (alternate universe meets current universe) with angst, death and a song, though this is pointless all in all. It sorta got me when I was reading. Oh, BTW, the song is Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. If you've ever seen the music video, part of this should seem familiar. Enjoy!  
  
****  
  
Salvation  
  
By Xandra  
  
****  
  
The tallest tower, the darkest shadow, herein dwelled a man at odds with himself, torn limb from limb by the agonizing war that raged in his mind.  
  
As if he hadn't suffered enough from the other war.  
  
[\\Earth, After Colony 197, the planet is a wasteland. The colonies were dropped, and they destroyed everything, killing billions. There were no plants, no buildings, no oceans--even the air was a hazard--and no people. None, except the survivors of the colonies' destruction.  
  
And these were the soldiers. The captains, the fighters, the pilots; the men that had lived neither in a colony nor on the Earth, but in space itself. They were all that was left of the human race. Several women, several men, not much for the planet...and they were still fighting. On the wasted lands, in pits, with their hands, sharp rocks, broken glass and anything they could find, they were keeping the war alive. Allies, enemies, siblings, lovers, shreds of families all moving for the kill. All of them.  
  
The only hope remained with the two surviving Gundam pilots. They had survived watching the whole world die, survived the nuclear winter that had stretched so far, even out into space itself. They had survived, but their friends had not. Duo Maxwell had died of pneumonia from the icy cold that had crept even into their ship in space, and Heero Yuy had gone mad from his loss and committed suicide. Chang Wufei had been killed by a stray soldier, impaled with his own sword. Now, the two remaining had to carry on the fight against the war all alone...Trowa Barton and Quatre Raberba Winner. Dressed in all-concealing mish-mash garb and wrapped in thick cloaks to protect themselves from the cold air and hot ground, the scalding sunlight by day and the icy shadows by night, they were in sad shape...but alive.  
  
As they trekked across the barren plane, they chatted to keep up their spirits. It was good that they were lovers, or else they might have been completely miserable. Of course, it wasn't like their chat was a lively one.  
  
"I can't believe everything's gone," Quatre sighed, sadly.  
  
Trowa frowned. His love had been a nature fan, and now there was no nature left. "We human beings are a plague to this planet, and this universe. We destroyed it."  
  
"Maybe someday something will come along and start fresh with it," the blonde offered.  
  
He nodded, though he really doubted it. Why dampen the poor boy's hope?  
  
Suddenly, Quatre came to a screeching halt in their trek and dropped to the ground, surprising the silent one. At first, he thought he was hurt, but then he spotted what he was doing.  
  
There, having pushed up from under the coarse red soil, was a single flower. A desert rose, the kind that grew in the worst places. That alone with its pale white pedals was enough to spark amazement in both of them.  
  
"LOOK Trowa!"  
  
"I see it..."  
  
"A flower! I real flower!" Quatre leapt up with all new energy and practically tackled his lover, knocking him to the ground. "Maybe there IS hope! Maybe everything isn't doomed!"  
  
Trowa smiled. Maybe his love was right...maybe there was hope...  
  
"Halt, Gundam pilot!"  
  
Trowa spun just in time to see an ex-White-Fang soldier standing with a rifle pointed at him. He probably thought Quatre was just a civilian. It had been ages since anyone had seen a real working firearm, so the chances that this one was real, in good working order and loaded were very scarce. He turned around and looked at the young man in his tattered brown trousers, shredded tank and holed jacket. Just like them, the poor young man was probably starving to death and looking to scare someone into becoming a meal or clothing. It was coming down to that. However, the silent one didn't find the urge to kill him, hungry, tired and cold as he was. He just didn't want to kill anymore. "I want no trouble from you," he said, carefully. "I am no threat presently, but if you decide to make a nuisance of yourself, I'm afraid I may become one."  
  
"Trowa, please," Quatre whispered. "Don't do that, you'll scare him. We don't need that."  
  
"Shut up," the soldier said, suddenly. And then, a maniacal grin split across his face and he aimed the gun at Trowa's chest, shakily. "Have you heard?"  
  
"Heard what?"  
  
"You Gundam pilots all have bounties on your heads!"  
  
Trowa blinked, then looked at Quatre, who stared disbelievingly at the boy. //So it has come to this,// he thought, grimly, //We are just game to be hunted for prizes. I knew it would happen someday, but I really wanted to avoid it.//  
  
The soldier continued heedlessly, "Not money anymore, oh no, but the higher soldiers were prepared for this. They have food, and clothes--weapons even! I got this rifle yesterday after I dragged in the carcass of zero-one, poor bastard."  
  
Quatre gasped, but Trowa just glared at the youth. //How...how could he possibly--// His set decision not to kill him was starting to waver.  
  
"He was practically dead when I smashed his skull in with a rock, nuttier than a fruitcake and starving to death slowly while laughing his ass off. It helped both of us--he's dead, and I've eaten."  
  
"Sick," Trowa hissed. "That's SICK!"  
  
"Hard times call for desperate measures!" the boy cackled. He narrowed his eyes, the smirk fading into a snarl. "I'm gonna bag you and get myself a house, 'cause you're the last one. Zero-four was killed a couple days ago, so that means you are the last of an extinct species!"  
  
The green-eyed young man looked down at his lover, who stared back with wide eyes. Apparently someone had killed a blonde man and claimed him to be Quatre to get fed. People were really getting desperate. Well, at least that meant no bounty hunters would be after him.  
  
"Know what that means? Your dead body will bring me a fortune in food and security!" He chuckled, somewhat unstably, then grinned at Quatre, who flinched. "And after you're dead...I'll take your little bitch there as my slut. God knows, there was about five women, and three died while the others were claimed. You look pretty enough to be a woman, sweetie." He winked.  
  
The blonde boy's eyebrows knit and an unfamiliar look of disgust crossed his face, but not of fear. Certainly, he'd been a little timid in the past, but he, like everyone else who had survived, had hardened himself to such things as fear and suffering. He was even stronger than he had been all those years ago.  
  
This was getting old. "I highly doubt that gun is loaded," Trowa said, yawningly.  
  
"You're right," the boy said, smirking and lowering it. Both relaxed, but only for a moment, because the youth's hand buried itself in his pocket and he produced a single golden bullet so fast that it was only a blur. He popped the rifle open and shoved it in, then pulled the barrel up to aim at Trowa. "NOW it is!"  
  
He froze with shock as he heard the explosion of the bullet from the gun, and everything slowed down. His life flashed before his eyes, but before the object could pierce his skin, he heard a cry and a dark cloak blocked his vision for just a second.  
  
There was a pair of high gasps from two places, and a splash of heat hit the Heavyarms pilot's chest, but before he could realize what had happened, the obstruction was gone...  
  
And Quatre hit the ground, face-down.  
  
He stared in momentary shock, then dropped to his knees and grabbed the quivering blonde, pulling him into his arms. The moment he turned him over, his eyes scanned the unnatural paleness to the naturally white skin; it was like snow, but softer in color. His eyes were somewhat hazed, and he was shaking.  
  
And then, he saw it. A hole, about the size of a nickel, right in the front of his shirt, edged with red, having seeped right through the thick, brown material.  
  
"Oh no," Trowa gasped.  
  
Quatre's vacant eyes slowly trailed up his chest to his face, and he smiled, slowly bringing a hand to his cheek. "What's the matter?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he was smiling like a confused child. It was unnerving. Then, his eyes dropped to the brunette's shirt, and he grasped the front weakly with his hand. "Oh...look at your shirt..."  
  
He looked down and gasped. A large splatter of blood rested on his chest...right over his heart. "Oh...oh no..."  
  
"I'm sorry...see, I m-messed up your...shirt..." The blonde grasped his own cloak and carefully started trying to mop the blood up, though it only succeeded in spreading it around, but soon, his hand weakened and he stopped. "I-I'm sorry...I...didn't mean to..."  
  
"Hush, Quatre, it'll be all right," he said. In the back of his mind, he recalled seeing a mother hush her frightened child, saying what he had just said despite the hopelessness. It was all the more terrifying. "Hold on, I'll get help somehow..."  
  
"But I don't need help...but my chest hurts a little..."  
  
"Oh Quatre...please, no, don't leave me..."  
  
"But...I'm...not...going...any..." Suddenly, his jaw closed and the soft spark in his eyes faded. The brunette almost felt the body in his arms grow cold as he sat frozen, staring at his lover.  
  
He gave him a harsh shake. "Quatre! Please, GOD, NO!" he cried, hysterically. The man in his arms would never move again.  
  
His abrupt grief then melted, turning to rage, and as the youth started to laugh, he lifted his eyes to him, fisting Quatre's cloak in his hands. The realization that he would never hear that happy laugh, see the sparkle in those eyes, feel the softness of his lips ever again completely turned his heart to a steel kiln...unfeeling, but burning with a merciless fire inside.  
  
"You...KILLED...him..." he whispered, setting the beautiful cadaver on the ground and stepping over it.  
  
The young soldier shook his head. "No, he got in the way. Casualty of war."  
  
"THE WAR IS OVER!" Trowa shrieked, his fury quickly morphing to insanity. "BUT IF YOU WANT A WAR, I'LL *GIVE* YOU A FUCKING WAR!"  
  
The boy struggled with his rifle, attempting to shove another bullet into the chamber. He wasn't fast enough. The murderous Silencer pounced on him, ripping the gun from his hands and throwing it far from his reach, then clamped his deadly hands on the thin throat of the young soldier. He choked and fought, but to no avail. Trowa was running on pure adrenaline and hatred now, and that was dangerous.  
  
"YOU TOOK MY SOUL FROM ME!" he bellowed, slamming the fragile crown of his captive's head against the hot, stony surface repeatedly. "MY LIFE AS A HUMAN BEING IS OVER, BUT *SO TOO IS YOURS*! YOU TOOK MY SALVATION--NOW I'LL TAKE YOUR *LIFE*!"  
  
Eventually, the misled youth stopped fighting him and fell limp, but he continued to pound his skull against the ground until it had split and caved in. Then, slowly, he drew himself to his feet and stared between to the two bodies. One was the love of his life, the only part of him that had kept him sane throughout, and to the other was a poor child that had been thrown into a war and taught the wrong way. Now two people were dead-- because of him.  
  
He sunk to his knees in front of the rifle and took it in his hands, then bent the barrel without any effort and tied it in a knot. Then, he threw it aside and fell on his face against the scalding hot turf beneath him...and cried.  
  
//My life...is over...// \\]  
  
The dark form wept into his gloved hands, grasping handfuls of his coppery hair in a fit of pure unleashed grief. It was so terribly wrong. He had lost his love and his entire universe had gone to hell, and now he was hanging onto life with a single thread for support.  
  
While sitting in the hell that had been Earth in his dimension, a vision had come to him of a holy being, offering him a single chance to see Quatre one more time...on one condition. He could not speak to him. Or anyone. At all. And he could never reveal the secret of his death. He had accepted...only to find himself having been brought three years in the past, year A.C. 194, in the colony area L-4...Quatre's home area. He knew he was in the past when he awoke because the L-4 system had been the first area of colonies to crash. But he was here.  
  
He had done all he could do in order to see his beloved Quatre, being that the boy was no more than fourteen at the time and living a semi-comfortable life without anything but his money and a room to keep him company. He took residence in an abandoned Muslim mosque (a thin tower once considered a place of worship) near the residence the blonde millionaire resided. From there, from the highest tower, through an ancient telescope, he watched the boy sit every morning in his pajamas on his front steps, enjoying the artificial sunlight.  
  
He never slept, he rarely ate. He was far past insane. All Trowa could do was watch the beautiful one that had once been his--the one that would be his in this future--sit, smile and enjoy himself. It was all he had left, now. His world was gone, his life was gone. All he could do was watch Quatre.  
  
He heard the door open from several blocks away and bolted upright, shoving the beaded curtains and his various knickknacks aside, rushing to the rusted old telescope and turning it to face the Winner mansion. He turned the dial down so he could see him properly (being that he could see just about anything with the telescope apparatus), then set his eye to the piece...and sighed.  
  
{And I'd give up forever to touch you  
  
Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
  
You're the closest thing to heaven that I'll ever be  
  
And I don't want to go home right now.  
  
And all I can taste is this moment  
  
And all I can breathe is your life  
  
Cause sooner or later it's over  
  
I just don't want to miss you tonight.}  
  
The blonde boy was still as beautiful as ever, in fact even more so in his innocence. He was so young...and so beautiful. The ever-constant smile remained as it always had, as lovely as its owner.  
  
{I don't want the world to see me...cause I don't think that they'd understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken...I just want you to know who I am...}  
  
The boy smiled ever so gently, turning his face up to the sun and sighing. Then, he looked at the mosque and his smile widened. He couldn't see him, of course. He knew that. Perhaps it was just the mosque itself that made him smile so.  
  
//Oh Quatre,// he thought sadly. //Why, oh why didn't I save you...?// A plaguing thought. Something that had nearly killed him many times. It was crushing. In his reality, the boy was nothing but a skeleton buried within the molten earth, but here, he was alive and beautiful...if only he could interfere and make him STAY that way!  
  
A desperation hit him. He had been told when given the chance to travel back that he could not bother Quatre, not at all, but he had to at least run into him on the street, experience the simple jolt of their bodies colliding and hear the soft apology before he gave up. One more time, and he would die gratefully.  
  
****  
  
Bump.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry!"  
  
Trowa stood frozen as he stared down at the dainty boy he remembered so well from his own childhood, no hair out of place, untainted innocence in his eyes, just as he had been when they'd met. Hearing his voice again was a joy like no other. Staring into those eyes again despite his own fear, despite the fact that his own face was concealed from sight by the hood of his cloak, was dizzying. He was so close, and yet, so far away. He said nothing, in fear of frightening him.  
  
{And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming.  
  
Or the moment of truth in your lies.  
  
When everything seems like the movies,  
  
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.}  
  
Quatre just stared at him for a moment, then cracked a smile, and the lost man felt his heart begin to beat for the first time in ages. "What interesting clothing! Quite original!"  
  
That was Quatre, all right. Always finding ups in everything, and constantly bending things to make people feel better. He smiled gently himself, though the action felt foreign, out of place.  
  
The blonde blinked a few times, then smiled again. "I hate to sound rude, but you look like you could use a meal. Would you accept some money from me so you can eat, or is that rude of me to offer?"  
  
He shook his head, "No thank you," he whispered.  
  
"Very well, but you should eat, you know. No offense, but you're as thin as a rail!"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
"All right. I apologize for running into you. I'm so rude sometimes...I'll be more careful from now on." With that, he offered him one last smile and headed off on his way. "Goodbye sir!"  
  
Trowa sighed to himself, //Now I can die,// and continued on his way.  
  
{I don't want the world to see me...cause I don't think that they'd understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken...I just want you to know who I am...}  
  
He suddenly paused as something in an alleyway nearby made a soft sound, and instinctively, he spun and stared into it.  
  
It was a lone boy, wrapped in a tattered blanket, sitting with his long legs stretched out to rest at the wall across from him, shivering and coughing. He was ill, no doubt, and homeless. Curious, he stared at him as he moved.  
  
It was...  
  
He leapt backward. It was HIM! Only younger, fourteen at the most! The rules had said that he could not talk to Quatre, but they had said nothing about talking to himself! A pity he was already mad. He couldn't think of what to say...so he started ranting.  
  
"Trowa Barton."  
  
The boy, whom he remembered being called Nanashi at the time, looked up at him, then around. He was deathly thin and much smaller than his future self. He whispered in a choking voice. "Are you talking to me?"  
  
"Of course," Trowa said, kneeling down in front of him. "You are Trowa Barton."  
  
"But...t-that's not my name..."  
  
He suddenly couldn't resist the urge to grin, and the youth withdrew from the expression, but he caught his shoulders and pulled him back. "Yes it is, or it will be."  
  
Nanashi stared at him.  
  
"I know your future, boy! You will become Trowa Barton, a Gundam pilot!"  
  
"What is a Gundam?"  
  
"You will learn in due time. You must go to the L-3 area, to colony X18999, and become a mechanic on a mobile suit called the Heavyarms. A wicked man by the name Trowa Barton will die there, but you must do nothing except claim his name as your own and take the Gundam to the planet Earth on a mission called Operation Meteor."  
  
His past self now looked interest. "A meteor is something that crashes into a planet."  
  
"Yes, and you must stop them. Rebel as a child, and when it returns, do NOT allow them to drop the colonies onto Earth."  
  
"Drop the colonies?!"  
  
"DON'T LET IT HAPPEN, BOY!" Trowa shouted at him, making him quiver. "Billions will die, and so too will everything you care about!"  
  
"I care about nothing! How would it affect me?"  
  
"When and if you let everything go to hell, you will be desperately in love," he said, carefully, keeping his voice down, "You'll meet him soon."  
  
Nanashi blinked. "Him? I don't like men! As a matter of fact, I don't like ANYBODY!"  
  
"You WILL! You'll see, but that isn't the point! Your allies, friends and your lover will all die in front of your eyes! Everything will plummet until mankind is nothing but a cannibalistic group of people who would eat each other at the drop of a hat. You have to prevent that and stop Operation Meteor before it gets started. You must, or everything will die."  
  
Nanashi looked shocked beyond anything, but slowly, he nodded. "I-I will...I..." he lowered his head, "I could never live with myself if I let innocent people die...again. Never again."  
  
"There you go, that's a good boy," Trowa sighed, patting the youth's head. He stood and turned to go, but something prevented him, a jerking of his cloak. He glanced back at Nanashi. "What is it?"  
  
The boy frowned a moment, then peered up at him. "How...how will I know the...man...I will love? What does he look like?"  
  
Trowa smiled, weakly. "An angel...an angel of mercy. You will know him, trust me. He will become your very soul someday. In fact, he is near, but you must not meet him now. Only on the day that is destined."  
  
"How do you know so much?"  
  
"I just do. Take care, and remember, you must be selfish to really save everyone. Protect the one you love, and you will protect the world. Never forget."  
  
"I...I won't..."  
  
With that finally done, Trowa bowed his head weakly and shuffled away, leaving the shocked Nanashi behind to stare at his retreating cloak. Though he knew the higher one, the being that had brought him here, would be angry with him for interfering, he felt slightly better about this whole situation. Maybe now he could be happy...at least in one reality.  
  
He walked all the way back to the Mosque, but before he could so much as open the door to the old temple, he sensed a foreboding air around it. //So short my time here was,// he thought, sadly. Well, he knew it would have to happen eventually. Now it was back to the ruins of the Earth, scraping for food and living miserably...living alone. But he had seen his darling Quatre one more time, and he had warned his younger self of the dangers to come and inevitably saved his own life in this reality, despite the fact that it would make no change to his own situation. It soothed the pain of his heart to know that he had done the right thing...even if it meant bending the rules a bit.  
  
Sighing, Trowa pushed the door open and stopped instantly as a great white light poured from the ground-floor room before him. He squinted his eyes against it and strained to see the great figure before him, the white, human-shaped silhouette standing at the center of the holy light, cloaked and hidden from his sight. "Is it time so soon?" he asked.  
  
The figure nodded as the light faded, and it extended a hand to him. {"I warned you not to speak with any of this time."}  
  
"I had to do it," he sighed. "I had to make it right, at least here in this time and dimension. I would rather my other self be happy when I cannot than let him suffer as I will for the rest of my life. My mistake should not be his too."  
  
The being nodded and gestured him close. {"You must return now."}  
  
Indifferent and unfeeling as usual. No surprise there. He shuffled up, miserably, and reached to take the white-gloved hand...then paused. "You travel through time," he said, softly. It nodded. "Then you may know...will I always be alone? Will I always hurt this way?"  
  
He almost thought he saw a smile from within the shadowy hood of the pale cloak. {"Come, it is time."}  
  
With a sigh, Trowa accepted the hand and watched as the being reached into the cloak. There was a soft click, followed by another, and then a buzzing sound. //I did the right thing,// he reminded himself. As he watched the surroundings melt away, he heard a voice that made him smile.  
  
/'Goodbye, sir!'/  
  
Then, the world fell into darkness, lit only by the white attire of the holy being whose hand clasped his own. He was returning to the misery now...but he would be glad, for he had seen his angel one more time, and possibly saved the life of another.  
  
He only prayed that Nanashi would remember his warnings.  
  
{I don't want the world to see me...cause I don't think that they'd understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken...I just want you to know who I am...  
  
I just want you to know who I am...  
  
I just want you to know who I am...  
  
I just want you to know who I am...  
  
I just want you to know who I am...}  
  
****  
  
As he felt his feet touch down on stiff ground, the glowing being turned to him and took his other hand, holding him in place so he could not leave.  
  
Trowa blinked. "What? Have you more to tell me now?"  
  
{"Indeed."}  
  
"Then please get on with it. I have a visit to a grave I must make before I continue my life of misery."  
  
The entity nodded its covered head and released his hands, only to grasp his shoulders. {"You forgot."}  
  
"Forgot what?"  
  
{"The warning issued to you by a myserious man."}  
  
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"  
  
{"Long ago, three years to be precise, a man in a cloak came to you and warned you of your future, but you forgot the warning and did not heed what was to come. It ruined your life, made you miserable, and in turn continued the cycle with my help."}  
  
He shook his head. "I don't understand. What is it you're trying to tell me?"  
  
The being sighed, then let go of him and reached up for its hood, removing it with a graceful, sweeping motion.  
  
And he found himself staring into narrow green eyes.  
  
Trowa gasped. "You?!"  
  
The man nodded. "Me. Or should I say YOU."  
  
He was staring right at himself...but he was older. His hair was streaked here and there with silver highlights, which made the rich coppery substance look more like tarnished gold, and his eyes were less wild and wiser, and despite his apparent age, he was not old, merely mature. Dressed in a regal white suit with his cloak draped over his shoulders, he was quite the sight...but nonetheless, it was him.  
  
Trowa stared. "But...how? And why?"  
  
Smiling, the man brushed his cloak aside, revealing a silver box clipped onto his belt, no bigger than a romance novel and covered with buttons and dials. "A time traveling machine, Trowa," he said. Before the younger of the two could even ask, however, the elder smiled, good-naturedly, and nodded. "And you can call me Triton."  
  
He blinked. "But w--"  
  
"Why, you ask. If you think back far enough, dear boy, you will recall being approached by an insane man who told you of Operation Meteor and that you had to stop it. You did so, but you forgot that it would resurface again under the control of Dekim Barton and you were only seconds too late to prevent the colonies from dropping onto the Earth, destroying it forever. Finding yourself in agony, you were saved by a mysterious being who brought you back to save yourself. An endless circle."  
  
"I don't follow you."  
  
Triton smiled again, then pointed up to the sky. Curious, Trowa looked up-- and gasped.  
  
"Stars?" he breathed, amazed. "How could their be stars? Earth's atmosphere was ruined when the colonies dropped, and the sky is red, even at night...so how can their be stars?" Trowa looked at his older self. "Did you take me somewhere else? This can't be where I belong."  
  
Triton gave him another all-knowing look, then gestured around. The two were standing in a meadow, like the ones the Earth had once had, beneath a star-filled sky in the middle of the night. It was indeed the prior Earth, but where in time were they?  
  
And then, he saw it. A small cabin built nearby, with lights inside, and a figure could be seen through the window, tending to something. The shade was drawn down, but the silhouette made his heart leap. It wasn't possible! He looked at him again.  
  
Triton suddenly turned toward the house and whistled, and the figure in the window stood bolt upright, looking toward them despite the opaque shade. Then, it disappeared from sight, only to throw the door open and stand there in the golden light.  
  
"Trowa?"  
  
The silent one felt his heart leap right into his throat. "Wha--?!" Before he could even let his eyes focus, he found himself being embraced by a pair of familiar arms, and he looked down at the pale golden mop of wavy hair beneath his chin, his heart pounding fiercely into his ribcage as the ever- so-lovely scent of roses reached his nose. "Q-Q-Q--!"  
  
Triton smiled at him. "You forgot when it was your time, but Nanashi did not. He remembered, just as you told him to."  
  
"Trowa, I missed you so much!" the blonde cried into his chest.  
  
Finally, Trowa got a grip on himself and pulled Quatre away from him, holding him at arm's length and staring at him.  
  
The boy blinked. "Why are you dressed so funny? I mean, it's a cute look, but..."  
  
He looked neither older nor younger than he had the last time he had seen him, the day he had died, and the smile was no different, and yet it wasn't at all possibly for him to be standing there. He knew that. "You're dead, I watched you die," he said, softly.  
  
Quatre nodded, obediently, then reached up to the collar of his shirt, pulling it down far enough to reveal his upper chest, where a small, circular scar was sitting. "I was," he agreed. Suddenly, the scar disappeared and he smiled. "Not anymore."  
  
Trowa blinked, then looked at Triton. "This doesn't make sense!"  
  
"It does too," the older man said, stubbornly, folding his slender arms across his chest. "You see, it was an unbreakable cycle, but it was broken. I myself can recall being but a boy and being told that I had to stop Operation Meteor, but I forgot, as did you, and I let my love and everyone else die, but then a being all in white whom I assumed was a god came to me and gave me the chance to go back in time and see him. I took the chance, and in time I ran across myself, not recalling that I had once been in this position, crouched in an alley...starving, ill--afraid. I told the boy, my younger self, to save his love and stop Operation Meteor. Trowa, that boy was you."  
  
Slowly, the memory came back to him and he blinked. "I...I remember...but how--?"  
  
"It's all very complicated, you see. It was an endless loop in time, different versions of ourselves going back in time to save our lovers and failing. When we returned to our times, we spent years building these little boxes to go back in time and give another of ourselves another chance at it."  
  
"The theoretical rule of three," Trowa said, slowly. Triton nodded. "When one travels through time, they become three, the past, present and--"  
  
"Future," he finished. "Very good, boy. You might be a genius someday."  
  
Trowa lowered his head to look at Quatre, then frowned. "So...this has been happening through time and space over and over in different dimensions, and all failed except me?"  
  
"Yes, and your triumph healed your loss. You see, by telling Nanashi with such force, force unused by the rest of us in our trials, that he had to save everyone and protect his lover, he used the passion for his own Quatre when he met him to do so. In turn, Quatre never died, the Earth was never destroyed and the colonies remained as they were. You've broken the cycle of failure with your love for this boy."  
  
"But technically, it shouldn't work that way, should it? It should have made another dimension in which my other self survived and the Earth survived!"  
  
"That was never proven," Triton said, patiently. "I--you, we, whatever--was the first to invent a way to travel through time, hence why the truth of merging realities was undiscovered. You see, by saving Quatre, you returned the natural balance. In other words, when I return to my time, I will have my version of him as if I had never lost him. In time you will forget what you have endured and new memories--the memories Nanashi makes in saving the Earth and living afterwards--will become yours, and mine. In time, Quatre will forget as well. Do you see?"  
  
Trowa nodded, slowly. "I believe so...so...in changing the past, I fixed our broken future?"  
  
"Now you've got it."  
  
He smiled, then looked down at Quatre, who had been peering up at him the entire time. "You remember?"  
  
"For now," the blonde sighed. "It's all very confusing, what with knowing I belong here and knowing I belong dead at the same time, but it will make sense soon--or rather, it won't have to make sense."  
  
"You will live as you should have from this day forward, and within the hour, you will feel as if having woken from a dream, all of your proper memories intact and your dark ones of your last reality lost to you like a forgotten nightmare. This means you will not have to create the time travel machine I wear here...not unless you want to. Mine remains with me only until I go back to my own time, at which point I believe it will disappear, never having been used, needed or created, supposedly." Triton paused, then smiled. "Even I can't properly separate it all out, and I invented the damned thing!"  
  
Trowa smiled full-heartedly for the first time in what felt like forever, embracing his little love and sighing with relief. "Thank you so much."  
  
"No, I thank you," the elder said. "If not for you, the pattern would have continued on into infinity, and we would both be forever miserable." He looked at the digital watch he wore, the only thing with color on him (Trowa hadn't noticed it before), then sighed. "Well, I had better get home. I already feel the memories of my age crawling into my mind, and I wouldn't want to remember it all and have my means of transportation leave me." He bowed. "I wish you good luck in life...for both our sakes."  
  
Quatre smiled at him, then up at Trowa. Then, his smile turned into a grin. "Huh. That's sort of interesting."  
  
"What?" the two forms of the same man asked.  
  
He smiled. "You'll be beautiful even when you get older."  
  
Trowa smiled, but Triton just smirked. "I should hope you retain that thought when you age, dear Quatre."  
  
The blonde simply smiled at him.  
  
Suddenly, there was another blast of white light, blinding, like the one that Trowa had seen before, but it remained, and as the brunette peered into it, he realized that it was coming from another being. The light soon died down, though not completely, leaving a portal of illumination where it had come from, standing in front of which was a man dressed as Triton was...with glittering pale hair...  
  
//Oh my God,// Trowa thought as he felt the tears coming. But these were unlike the tears he had shed before...they were tears of joy.  
  
Quatre gasped. "Is that--?"  
  
Triton turned completely as a floating, soft voice came to him.  
  
{"Trowa...you've played enough here, it's time to come home..."}  
  
The mature man looked back at his younger self, who was smiling uncontrollably at the realization of what they were all seeing. "I thank you again, boy. You've been our salvation."  
  
Trowa mentally smirked. He was the salvation...wasn't he.  
  
Triton drew his hood up again, though only partially so his face and bangs could be seen, then hit a button on his belt and headed for the man standing in the light. He was achingly beautiful, with hair so pale blonde that it was nearly white but still sparkling with hints of gold here and there, and that ever-present smile, though more mature here, was still on his face as he stood with his arms spread open wide. The silver-haired man accepted his other with very apparent joy into his arms, then looked back at the couple of the present, who stood in a similar state. "Goodbye, young Trowa, and thank you again."  
  
Mirai-Quatre smiled at him from the arms of his older self and he winked, then cuddled close as the portal widened around them and the light flashed again. With that, the two were gone.  
  
Trowa smiled, then looked down at his own lover, who was smiling knowingly at the place where their future selves had been. "Quatre."  
  
Slowly, cerulean eyes lifted to meet jade ones. "Yes, Trowa?"  
  
There was a moment's pause, during which they just stared at each other, but finally, after looking at what he knew was their home, he smirked. "Can we go inside now? These clothes are uncomfortable."  
  
Quatre laughed, then playfully punched him in the arm. "Oh fine! Besides, you smell awful anyway. You need a bath!" The blonde took his hand and removed the hand-made glove, then pulled him toward their home with that smile on his face. "Come on, Trowa. I'll even help you bathe."  
  
That was a promisingly comforting thought! "Wait a moment," he said, softly. He looked up at the sky, at the stars he had wanted to see for so long, and the barest of smiles crossed his lips again. "The sky," he whispered. "Aren't the stars beautiful?"  
  
"Yes," Quatre whispered, hugging his arm tenderly and leaning against his shoulder. "It is."  
  
Suddenly, through the trees nearby, there was a disturbance, and a bicycle shot past carrying a familiar rider. The bike's bell rang and they both blinked. "Good evening, sirs!" a boy in jeans and a T-shirt called to them. He waved, excitedly, and Quatre waved back, but Trowa just stared after him.  
  
It was the young soldier...but he wasn't a soldier anymore. That was all the more reassuring, reminding him that what he'd done was right.  
  
"Come on, let's go in." Quatre tugged him toward the house, smiling up at him.  
  
He smiled back at his love, doffing his thick cloak and the other glove, then followed him inside, but not before looking up at the stars once more. With every step, his dark past became more like a passing nightmare, but he would remember one thing.  
  
He had helped to save the Earth, and in turn he had been given his salvation. He had been the salvation, maybe for everyone.  
  
"Heero called," Quatre said, absently. "Duo has a cold and he won't stop whining about it. He wants you to visit so he can get away from him, if only for a moment."  
  
"Well," he sighed. "Sometimes it seems that life is only a moment, and sometimes we take for granted what can happen in that small amount of time. Your life could change forever in a moment..."  
  
"You should tell him that."  
  
Softly, Trowa smiled to himself as he crossed the threshold into his home. There, potted on the hearth of the fireplace within, was a white desert rose. It served as a reminder, if...if only for a moment...that he had been salvation. "...I will."  
  
****  
  
The End  
  
Xandra: Tell me what you thought. 


End file.
